“Oh,” I said quietly, and disappointment flared. “I suppose I could cut it.”
I heard another engine and jerked my head to find the source. A red SUV came tearing around the corner of the Wal-Mart, and one of the cardboard boxes stacked on top tumbled off. As it approached and slowed, I gripped the arm rest. Inside, I could see three occupants. A male driver, a woman in the passenger seat, and a teenage boy leaning forward between the two front seats. Clutch stopped, and they pulled up alongside. The man was favoring his bloody arm, while the woman, who I assumed to be his wife, cried in the seat next to him. She was pale and bleeding profusely from her cheek and neck. Bitten.
“They’re neighbors,” Clutch said before rolling down the window. “Good people. They live a few miles west of me.”
The man leaned against his steering wheel as he rolled down his window.
“Frank,” Clutch said with a slight tilt of his head.
“Clutch,” the man replied, and I cocked my head. Everyone called him Clutch?
Clutch nodded toward the Wal-Mart. “How’s the pickings?”
“I bet there’s plenty in there,” Frank said. “But we just grabbed what we could off the back of a truck behind the building. There are zeds everywhere. Even in the unloading area.”
Clutch nodded. “You bit?”
The other man grimaced, and then looked at his wife and son. “Afraid so. We both are. We needed food and underestimated the bastards. They just never stop.”
My jaw tightened. Clutch and I were about to do the same thing, maybe even to the same store, and I wondered how many zeds were where we were headed.
“Sorry to hear that,” Clutch said before nodding toward the backseat. “And your boy?”
“Jasen’s too fast,” the man replied with a proud smile in his son’s direction. “The zeds can’t get close to him.”
I looked from the teenager to his parents and back again. Wet streaks lined his cheeks, and his eyes were red. Oh, the poor kid knew exactly what was in store for his parents.
“He’s not safe with you, you know,” Clutch said in a low voice.
Frank lowered his head. “I know.” He gave a long look at his wife. “We’re just going to get these supplies home for Jasen before…”
Silence filled the air.
Frank’s wife leaned forward. “Please, Clutch,” she said, sobbing and oblivious to her injury. “Please look after our son. He’s just a boy.”
“I’m not a boy, Mom,” the teenager replied. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be all right.”
Clutch didn’t speak for the longest time. When he did, his words sounded like they were weighted down. “Jase, how about you come on over and climb in my truck.”
Jase’s mother gasped. “Oh, thank you! Jasen’s a good boy. He’s strong and smart and you won’t be sorry. God bless you, Clutch.”
Frank’s face instantly lifted. “You’re a good man. I wish I could—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clutch interrupted.
“I’m not leaving you guys,” Jasen broke in from the backseat.
“Jasen,” his father said, sounding exhausted. “You’ve got to go.”
“Not until you get sick. The guy on the radio said that he heard that not everyone got sick,” he replied.
“That’s just a rumor, Jase,” his father said.
“Besides, Betsy’s still at home,” Jasen said. “I’m not leaving her locked in the house to starve to death.”
“Betsy?” I asked.
“The dog,” Frank replied with a sigh.
“Your parents are going to get sick, Jase,” Clutch replied. “Soon.”
“I know,” he replied, the words barely above a whisper. “I can’t abandon them now. They need me.”
“Go with Clutch, Jasen,” his mother pleaded to her son. “You’ll be safe.”
“I’m not leaving you like this, Mom.”
Clutch sighed. “We’re burning daylight. The offer stands, Jase. You know where I live. Come on by anytime. I’ll be home in a few hours. Just be careful to not attract any attention.”
Jasen nodded before sinking back into the shadowed seat.